


Adeline

by silusaugustus



Category: The 100, The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Crossover, F/M, Fluff, Post-Apocalyptic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-04-01 02:52:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13988928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silusaugustus/pseuds/silusaugustus
Summary: After the culmination of events at Mount Weather, Arkadia settled down into a cautiously optimistic routine; planting, hunting, storage, maintenance.  While Clarke fends for herself in the wild, Bellamy takes on the duties of roaming security officer and finds a curious bunker in the forest.





	1. Mysterious Bunker

**Author's Note:**

> (The timing of this piece is shortly after the ending of the second season, before Pike and Farm Station are found.)

Bellamy was sitting on the hood of the Rover, marking his map.  The rain above him didn’t quite filter through the thick tree cover, but his hair was properly frizzy nonetheless.  He didn’t mind as long as the paper was dry. This new area he was mapping was particularly interesting; no sign of grounders anywhere, very few markers of former territory.  A few road signs along the busted-up pavement were all that remained of the former area, and he had no clue if it had been a residential, market, or other public place. It was beautiful, and quiet, so he was content.  

 

It hadn’t taken long for Bellamy to gain this coveted mobile security and mapping position he’d wanted; he was trusted with the rover and other equipment, and came to the position with more terrain knowledge than any of the dwellers of the Ark.  Lincoln might have been the obvious choice, but seemed to have no interest in matching up old world maps to new world ruins. While Bellamy took the duties seriously, he also spent a lot of time looking for signs of Clarke...so far, fruitless, but he was convinced it wasn’t a waste of time.  Whenever he got discouraged at the tediousness of finding and mapping landmarks, Bellamy reminded himself that it was highly preferable to supply runs to Mount Weather--a job for which he’d been strongly considered, but Bellamy had fought passionately against it.

 

He couldn’t imagine going back up there, seeing the bodies.  Or even the spots where the bodies had lain. Even now his thoughts drifted to it, the calm rain drops landing on the rover’s hood tap-tap-tapping as if impatient with his pause in writing.  Bellamy blinked, forcing himself to look away from the faded map and into the trees, when he caught movement. Startled, he watched as a large black bird flapped its wings, landing on a nearby overhead branch, and then croaked out a strange call.  

 

He’d never seen anything like this yet.  Bellamy considered using his rifle scope for a closer look, but the bird was only fifty or so feet away, and he was in awe of the moment.  The bird seemed less impressed; it tilted its black head, cawing again at the intruder. The brunette gingerly placed the pen and map on the hood of the rover, but just as he shifted to stare, the bird was nervous enough about his movement that he flapped his black wings again, fluttering farther into the forest ahead.  

 

Bellamy, as though transfixed, leapt from his metal seat and followed, jogging down a hill and watching the thick green treeline for the spot of black, the crow ducking around the bend and disappearing until Bellamy rounded it as well.  He scanned upwards, the tall mossy area betraying no bird, until --there it was!-- he watched it soar up to a tall window and then hop inside.

 

Bellamy was even more startled; what looked at first glance to be a very steep, slick rocky cliff above him was topped with a strange concrete structure, not unlike the bulky protruding exit door at Mount Weather.  But it had a window, and now that he was surveying it, he could see a door as well. Just as he decided to investigate further, he heard a telltale rumble in the distance; possible thunderstorm, and he did not want to get stuck in the inevitable downpour and mud.  With one last hard glance at the cliffside bunker, he jogged back to the rover, pausing only to inspect mossy ground near where the crow first squawked at him, and to take from that ground, one long slim iridescent black and green dropped feather.

________________________

“Bellamy,” Lincoln said quietly, as the latter sat eating inside the Ark.  

“Lincoln,” the other replied through chewing his food; he glanced up and saw the usual broody expression on Lincoln’s face.  Lincoln actually sat beside him, pondering what to say, when Bellamy interjected, “What’s up?”

“I was going over the notes for your scouting today,” Lincoln said.  “You wrote about a door and window on a cliff.”

“Yeah, you know anything about it?”

Lincoln shook his head in a rather dismissive way.  “You should take that out of your report.” His voice was even lower than usual.

“Why?”

The other man hesitated.  “We...the Grounders...we know about that place.  It’s best left alone by Skaikru.”

“But what is it?”

Now Lincoln had already stood up, outstaying his own welcome, and he shook his head again as he walked away.  Bellamy waited for an answer, sighed when the enigmatic man had left the room, and turned his attention back to dinner.  While he sat in thought, Bellamy reached into his own coat pocket and withdrew the feather, turning it in his fingers.

  
  



	2. The Secret Garden

Bellamy had found a rare window seat in a storage area, a place rarely visited by members of the Ark.  Now he lay on the makeshift bed of cargo containers and an old mattress, propped up by lumpy pillows, Gina wedged at his side in the too-small space.  His long legs were crossed at the ankles as he lounged, staring out the window at the rain while Gina wrote in her journal.

 

She was talking, he realized, tearing his gaze away from the greenery outside.

“What?”

She paused, then smiled knowingly.  “Were you thinking about Clarke again?”

Bellamy blinked, glancing aside, unsure how to answer, but she continued reassuringly, squeezing his bicep.  “You’ll find her, okay? I know you will.”

At Gina’s warmth, Bellamy smirked, then smiled despite himself.  He brushed a curl away from her face, realizing that he should probably speak his mind even though inwardly, he fought against the idea.  She was too kind, he decided, to keep it to himself. Lincoln’s warning entered his mind, but he brushed the thought away.

Bellamy shifted on the mattress and turned to face her.  “Actually...I was thinking about something else.”

“Oh? Let’s hear it.”

“Have you ever read _The Secret Garden_?”

Gina smirked this time.  “You know I’ve read, like, half of the books you have…”

“It was one of O’s favorites,” he recalled, watching the rain slide down the window.  “Was a story about an orphan. She grew up in one place, was moved to another, and a robin..it’s a little red bird...anyway, a robin showed her where this key was to--”

“--Let me guess...a secret garden?”

She giggled and he snorted.  “Well, she found the key and the door.  But she wanted to keep it a secret. That’s why it was special.”

“Okay, I get it.”  Gina nodded curtly.  “I can see why Octavia liked the book...but why are you thinking about it now?”

“Well, I saw a secret today.  Out in the forest. Not a garden...but…” he hesitated, still unwilling to talk about it.  He didn’t dare say bunker. He didn’t want to say door. The lever from Mount Weather flashed in his mind again, another voice in his head nagging him that whatever lay behind it, he didn’t deserve to find--he had already committed enough murder to last a lifetime….now Bellamy had trailed off again, eyes glazed.

“Okay, so you found something.”  Gina’s tone was hesitant, as she realized the situation was perhaps more complex than he was willing to speak about.  She carefully chose her next words. “And you feel like keeping it a secret.”

“Yeah,” he said, making eye contact with her for the first time since the conversation began.  “Yeah. Exactly.”

“So, I think that’s great,” she responded.  “Just be safe, okay?”

He could only smile, then leaned over to hug her awkwardly from the side.  Bellamy kissed Gina’s forehead, and she suddenly laughed.

“Was it a robin that showed you?”

“No, actually,” he responded as she laughed again.  “It was a crow.”

Gina was still laughing, but Bellamy simply continued to smile.  


	3. The Open Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy returns for a second look at his new secret.

He was excited for his roving duty, but he had one more stop to make after grabbing a makeshift lunch.  Bellamy found Octavia near the garden, and he jogged up to her as he buttoned his jacket.  “O,” he said unceremoniously, then paused when he saw her brooding face.  
  
“What? Is this about Lincoln’s jacket?”   
  
Her sneer and side eye were enough to answer that question.  
  
Bellamy cleared his throat, deciding to avoid _that_ topic.  “Hey uh...I have a question to ask you.  Something Lincoln mentioned to me.”  
  
“What is it?” She began walking along the planted row of corn, Bellamy lengthening his stride to keep her fast pace.  
  
“You ever look at any of the mapping or notes we’ve started collecting?”  
  
“Why would I do that?” she was still sulking.  Bellamy ducked under a leaning cornstalk.   
  
“Well, I mapped something the last time I was out two days ago.  Lincoln...acted strange about it.”

  
“I’m listening.”   
  
“Down in that valley, the one with a lot of animals? We used to set traps there but they kept disappearing.  Not a lot of Grounders.  You remember?”  
  
“I know the place.  What about it?”    
  
“Well, I found way up on a hill, some kind of door.  Looks like it might be reachable with the right equipment.  Up on some rocks?”

  
  
Now Octavia paused, and in surprise, turned toward him.  “Wait.  A really high door.  Was there a window?  Handprints on the rocks below?”  
  
“I didn’t notice any handprints, but yeah,” he responded hastily.  Why was he so excited?   
  
“Lincoln has a drawing of it in his book,” she nodded, now mildly interested despite herself.  “He told me about it.  Said I should avoid it.”    
  
“What’s up there?”  
  
Octavia shook her head, ponytail whipping across her ears.  “He wouldn’t really say.  Something about that it was a sacred spot for _Trikru_ , home of the _Chicakeryon_...one of their legends or whatever.”  
  
“ _Chica-keryon_?”  
  
“It means talking spirit...or something like that.  A forest god that speaks to animals and _Trikru_.  And apparently an angry one who likes to be left alone.”  She paused, bending to pick up an apple, presumably for Helios, and put it in her bag.  “At one time I guess the whole area was walled off, but the walls fell.  They’re marked though, I’ve seen them.  _Trikru_ avoids them.”  
  
“That explains why he wouldn’t talk much about it,” Bellamy retorted, and he heard Pike call from far across the field.  “Hey Blake, you gettin’ started on that run yet?”  
  
“Gotta go,” he patted Octavia’s arm, but just as Bellamy was happy to rush back to the rover, Octavia turned, her stormy expression growing.    
  
“Bellamy.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Whatever’s out there? Just do what Lincoln says and leave it alone.  We’ve got enough problems with Grounder conflict already.”  
  
This stopped him, and he blinked.  “Yeah.  Of course.  I was just curious.”  
  
She gave him one final unconvinced stare before turning away.    
  
_____  
  


 

  
Bellamy ignored his own projected route and simply drove by memory to the grove where the crow had shown him the cliff tower.  He parked the rover and ducked as he exited, already scanning for the nearly hidden architecture.  He had a strange feeling it would be gone, a figment of his imagination, but there it was, hidden atop the rocks, far above him.  He grinned, giddy.   
  
Octavia’s ‘explanation’ had spooked him; he was silent on the drive, imagining some ferocious beast from the stories he’d read.  A minotaur, maybe.  Or a nymph. Or a cyclops.  It was just like the Greek tales, people frightened out of an area by something they both worshipped and feared.  The rifle at his hip took away most of his anxiety about a beast or animal, and the lure of the unknown drew him forward.  Something was up there, even if it was just memories or bones.  A secret.    
  
He wasn’t too far from the remains of the zoo, he remembered as he briskly approached the cliff.  It was a dangerous area to lurk in, and it was definitely possible that some strange, irradiated monstrosity had taken up refuge in whatever the original shelter was supposed to house.  Maybe that was another reason for the makeshift walls in the area, the moss-covered bricks of which Octavia spoke of.    
  
Bellamy paused near the cliff’s edge and looked straight up.  Smooth, slippery, wet rock. Ferns and moss poked out of crevices. Water trickled down these breakups, and a small pebble-filled pond laced the rocky edges in front of him.  The water was clear, and he could see his own dark shadow reflected in the sparse light.  His boots splashed through the shallow liquid, breaking up his shadow, and Bellamy craned his neck, glancing up and down the rock wall.  Then he noticed something closer--wedged into the rock wall in front of him, ten feet to his right: a small altar of sorts, bearing a smudged logo of _Trikru_ and, as Octavia mentioned, white painted handprints lining the rock nearby.  Bits and baubles lay on the altar, obvious offerings to, Bellamy could only assume, the talking spirit.   
  
He scanned the altar.  Uneaten food.  Crude bowls.  Crystal rocks.  A large jawbone of some kind.  Homemade wax candles.  A bear paw.  A necklace.  Salvaged coins, some so irradiated that they almost glowed.    
  
Bellamy looked back up.   It was a stupid idea, all right.  No equipment, no ladders, no rope, no nothing...but he felt that he had to at least try.  Just as he slung the rifle over his back, tightening the strap so it wouldn’t slip against him as he climbed, the crow circled above him, appearing from behind the ridge, cawing as though in disapproval.  
  
“What? It’s your fault I even found this place.” He was talking to birds, on top of attempting to climb over six stories with no safety.  Certifiably crazy.  He could only imagine what Clarke’s response would be.  But it was the happiest Bellamy had felt in...well….awhile.  
  
The crow landed on the windowsill above and cawed again, almost humorously.  At least the bird was talking back.   
  
“Well, you were supposed to show me the key,” he grunted as he found makeshift holes for his feet.  Bellamy labored through another step, now maybe fifteen feet off the ground.  “That would’ve preven--”  
  
Suddenly another noise caught his attention, and he paused, hands stuck in rock cracks.  Bellamy flung his head upward, black curls cascading off his forehead.  The door on the cliff swung open above him, and he only saw a pale figure for several seconds before everything turned to grey--he gagged, mouth full of water--from above him a huge wave of water crashed down, and Bellamy’s hands involuntarily sprang up to guard his face.  He flew backwards and downward, landing in the same small pond he’d just trekked through, coughing and sputtering at the burning water.   
  
Soaking wet, he gagged and coughed, but then quickly remembered to scramble backwards in case another unfriendly barrage hit him, and now he blinked through still-stinging eyes.  Was he hallucinating?  As soon as he had the thought, he heard a strange sound.  A musical laugh.  
  
He wiped the water from his eyes.  Then yelled, “HEY!” almost affronted, as though pride were important when facing an unknown enemy.    
  
The figure paused and his vision cleared enough to get a better look.  And then Bellamy’s dark eyes widened.  In the shadowy doorway the figure leaned even farther forward.  She was …..naked?  Dark curtains of wet hair lined her neck, shoulders, chest, and clung to her sides.  He was too flabbergasted to even take in this image when she called down to him.    
  
“You’re lucky now!  I gave you the old bath water!”  Bellamy was so confused.  She sounded so modern.  Not tribal at all.  And she had spoken English straight away.  This definitely was no Triku warrior.  He stared, mouth open, for several seconds.  All he could sputter out, as his brain screamed at him to reply, was, “LUCKY?”  
  
“That’s right,” she nodded, and the crow seemed to chuckle beside her.  “The fresh bath water is scalding.  Don’t make me use it!  Go away!”   
  
The door slammed, and the crow chuckled again.    
  
Still stunned, he slowly rose to his feet, mentally checking that nothing was broken or in pain--no, still just his pride--and Bellamy stood at the foot of the rock cliff. 


	4. Lagoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weeks go by and Bellamy learns more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is actually where this entire fiction started. I listened to the song the main character is named for, and for some reason it reminded me of Lord of the Flies. The song is about a wolverine watching a woman swim. I actually set about making an art piece of Simon with the Lord of the Flies--if the lord of the flies were a female. 
> 
> Right after I fell in love with the song and started my art piece, I started watching the 100 and of course the first few chapters were VERY reminiscent of Lord of the Flies. Such a coincidence. So this fic is actually the strange conglomeration of the imagery I got from the song, but put in the world of the 100. I know. It'll make more sense later. 
> 
> Link to song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1XwU8H6e8Ts

Bellamy avoided the cliffside bunker for several patrols. 

He did, however, find an abandoned petroleum station that had been mostly foraged by previous grounders; among the rubble was a small curio. He plucked it up, marveling that it hadn’t shattered. A small orb, full of water and glitter and white flakes that swirled when the object was shaken.   
Suspended in the liquid was a small plastic tree branch, and perched on it, a plastic red bird. He turned the globe, noting the flowers silhouetted behind the bird and branch. The blue rim of the bauble proclaimed V I R G I N I A in large white letters.

He pocketed the small oddity and wrapped it in a piece of cloth, and purposely made a detour on his route home, setting it quite purposefully on the wooden shelf on top of a bed of plucked moss. For several patrols, his curiosity got the best of him and Bellamy noted the glint of the glass; the object remained.

Then, one day, prepared to see the same exact display, he paused and did a double take from the driver’s seat when he noticed that the small globe was missing--all other artifacts remaining untouched. 

The same uncharacteristically goofy grin crossed his face, and he remained in a cheerful mood for the rest of that day, much to the annoyance of Jasper and Gina, who were both sour over the poor-tasting dinner. Bellamy didn’t even notice it.   
________

Later that week he was out unannounced; Bellamy had taken to what he and his friends referred to as “Raven’s fence,” an unnoticed and inconspicuous section of fencing with a diluted electrical charge. Several members of the 100 used the secret entrance into Trikru territory, although mostly it was Octavia commiserating with Skaikru, or else Jasper, looking for more hallucinogenic nuts. Abby was furious with every report of an undocumented drug, which was probably another motivation for Jasper in itself. 

Bellamy had no desire to trip or to seek out Grounders. He actually intended to visit the Drop Ship. There were several ‘cache’ locations that Bellamy thought Clarke might use for storage or shelter, and he checked each periodically. No luck yet, but he had nothing else to do but look, especially while Gina was at Mount Weather. Though he couldn’t really admit it to himself, there was something nostalgic about the drop ship despite the horrors they’d faced there; it was after all where he first set foot on earth. 

After his arrival, he noted the area was bare. The note, plus the blank paper and sharpened pencil he’d placed near the entrance, was unmoved. Just like the last visit. Bellamy took some time to pluck a handful of strange, fluorescent purple flowers that grew in the entryway, and place one flower on each of the burial mounds that contained a member of the 100. He pondered in the area for awhile, sitting motionless at the side of the makeshift cemetery, before walking a different way than he’d came.

A sharp canyon cut unexpectedly into the forest, the rushing sound of a river carrying up from far below. Bellamy simply followed the edge of the ravine, not paying directions mind, holding his rifle close in case of unexpected wildlife. He lost the water several times on his deliberate hike, but it would always snake out in front of him like a great open mouth. 

Finally, Bellamy decided he should move back to the main pathway as nothing had been found of note so far--other than the river--so he decided to move closer and actually glimpse the river, which as of yet hadn’t been of interest to him. Bellamy moved left, turning through the trees and brush, following a gentle slope that to his surprise, suddenly ended in a steep rocky cliff. He was surrounded by other moss-covered rocks and more trees, but the absence of ground still threw him off, which was ironic since he had lived without it for eighteen years. 

Perhaps eighty, ninety feet down the small river spread into a wide lagoon, and to Bellamy’s surprise the view reached far. He could see the faint outline of the Philpott Dam in the distance--this river was likely a tributary--and even the looming Mount Weather was visible, an inconspicuous rise in the horizon. As he surveyed this unexpected scene, a glimmer in the water below caught his attention. Still feeling the vertigo of the steep fall, he found himself leaning against a large rock for support. 

Bellamy almost toppled over. The glimmer he’d spotted was a nude woman. 

He paused, then looked again when the figure dipped underneath the bright green water. He had been warned shortly after Octavia’s incident to never swim in the waters here, a message only reinforced by Grounders. Who was this person? What was she doing? Any perverse thoughts were forgotten as Bellamy tried to figure out the situation. He saw no one else around. Nothing on the bank. Nothing in the water. Just a woman, swimming. The sunlight glimmered upward from the lake, illuminating his cheeks, which were flushed red. 

Inwardly he remembered a moment from several weeks before. A singsong voice, a head of wet hair plastered against a pale face and neck. Now the woman bobbed into sight again, lazily kicking and doing a backstroke. Bellamy envied her; he’d wanted to swim since he first saw water from the ground. There was no urgency in her movements, and the sun began to feel even warmer as it shone through a passing cloud. 

It was the same woman, he decided. Bellamy’s curiosity was almost too intense. He didn’t quite know what to do. Wasn’t the water dangerous? Wouldn’t a squatter in a bunker stay in the bunker most of the time? He looked back over his shoulder, noting for the first time that he was in fact envious. His envy over whatever and whoever this person was outshone his curiosity for the first time. 

After another few moments of mulling, he began to feel voyeuristic and turned away, lingering another moment. The bunker might be empty. Maybe he could climb it this time. But Bellamy was on foot and had nothing more than emergency paracord, should anything happen. He decided to head towards Arkadia, as he was meant to--but the thought, and the image of the woman, followed him back.

He lay alone that night on his makeshift corner bed, staring at the inky sky through the window, already plotting a day to go back.


	5. The Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy is compared to a book character.

Lexa was staring stoically at the blank paper in front of her.  It was not out of fear, but respect, that she did not meet the eyes of the lanky, almost alien figure who paced fluidly behind her chair.  They were in Ice Nation territory, in a makeshift camp, but the pale form in the room with Lexa and Indra was no threat. Still, the two women warriors continued to keep their eyes downcast. 

“The Ice Nation is intent on finding Wanheda,” Lexa continued after a pause, carefully guarding her words.  “As the leader of the Coalition I can’t….” _protect her?_

“I can’t ...stop their search.”

“I know,” the singsong voice answered, as though thoughts did not need to be spoken aloud.  “I watch her. I’m not concerned of her capture for some time. However…” the pause was pregnant.  “I am also not concerned about her capture.”

 

“Skaikru is extremely loyal to Wanheda,” Indra countered, with a slight shake of her head.  “They will make trouble if they learn that Azgeda has one of their own...especially Clarke.”

 

“Let it unfold,” the calm voice soothed.  Lexa clenched her jaw almost imperceptibly.

 

“And then what?” she said despite herself, frustration showing in her tone.

 

“Skaikru will join the Coalition,” was the answer.

 

“And HOW are we going to make that happen?!” 

 

The outburst was met with silence.  Lexa collected herself. “You...your sway over Azgeda...they are yours.”  She glared sullenly at the wall of the tent. “But not Skaikru.  They do not believe, or worship.”

 

“Not _meeee_ ,” the voice tinkled merrily, as though amused at the thought.   “Fortunately, worship is not the only route of persuasion available to us.”

 

__________________________________________

  
  


Sweat glistened off his brow as Bellamy scrambled up the last meter and toppled over the cliff edge, breathing heavily.  The door and window to the hidden rock-wall-building were directly in front of him, but mere inches separated him from the sixty foot drop back to the puddle.  He had finally done it. He was on his feet in seconds, scrambling to find a door knob. No luck. The reinforced metal was simply painted to look like the rock around it, but the security design was far more in-depth than the camoflauge.  It was comparable to some of the doors on the Ark. 

 

The window was closed, a black hole with reflective black covering whatever lay behind it.  Bellamy peered in anyway, seeing his own wide, excited eyes flash white as he drank up the view--or lack of it.  Being so close to the dwelling caused his heart to beat wildly, but the awareness of imminent peril caused him to glance around nervously.  There were no footholds. Nowhere to tie the rope he’d used on his climb. He needed more secure ground. 

 

His curly head swung back and forth, surveying.  Smooth rock. Moss. The door. The window. Nowhere to tie a knot.  As he pushed tree branches out of his way, Bellamy suddenly gained inspiration and looked up at the huge old oaks that cushioned this rock cliff.  They wound underneath him, over his head, and who knew how high--greenery was so thick here that he could not see very far above him. He reached up, finding a thick branch and pausing all excitement to secure his line to it.  

 

Now he grew even more curious; the rocks continued upward into the treeline...maybe there was another way inside?  If he climbed the tree he could at least get a better view. As though he were raised on earth and had climbed trees as a boy, Bellamy leapt up, grabbed onto the rough bark with his hands and swung a leg up.  

__________________________

 

Fifteen minutes later and he paused in his quest to admire the beauty up here.  The tree was thick and shaded, but offered windows out to the sky and scenery beyond. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and the gold flecks caught the bright green leaves, shimmering in an almost neon irradiated display of nature.  He was relaxed, lounging like a cat on a very wide limb, his back against the tree’s trunk. What a shame he’d already had lunch, Bellamy mused--this would have been the perfect spot. 

 

He did at least have his canteen.  Now he carefully unhooked it from his belt, unscrewing the lid to deliberately drink, eyes still on the horizon peeking through the foliage.  

 

As his lips touched the metal, a great crash sounded above him, and suddenly to his left a figure appeared, swinging upside down like a macabre bat, a black blanket of hair billowing out in all directions.  “You know--!” it said excitedly, but Bellamy had already yelped in terror, losing his balance on the tree limb and flying off in the opposite direction. 

 

His line would catch him, but not for another ten feet--his eyes scrunched closed in anticipation of pain--but suddenly a force was holding the rope, pulling him slowly back upward.  Bellamy pivoted to see what was happening and barely believed his own eyes. The figure had grabbed the rope, as it still hung upside down, and was now pulling him back over the branch.

 

Bellamy stared dumbly, forgetting the nearly 100 foot drop below him as he stared.  It was the same girl. He clung to the branch as the pressure released on him; she dropped the rope as soon as he had his balance, and now she gracefully plopped out of her bat-like position to sit on an adjacent branch.  

 

“You--I---I---”

 

“I was saying,” she continued, batting her lashes.  “You KNOW...I first had you figured for Jack.” 

She held something, and still jaw agape, Bellamy realized it was a book.  And now she began reading from a page. He barely registered the words, intent on staring and learning her every feature. She was thin and tall, with a frame like no Grounder he’d ever seen.  Her skin was pale, almost blueish. Her hair was long and jet black, as black as his--but tamed, it seemed, as it hung down straight and silky. Her face was as angular and strange as the rest of her, but her eyes were round and piercing as they glanced off each word on the page.  Perhaps the telltale mark of her strangeness was a thin inverted triangle on her forehead, looking at first to be made of white paint, but Bellamy realized as he studied it that it was almost some type of implant, as though there were a wire protruding several millimeters from her skin.  

He caught himself listening to the last of her excerpt.  “There was the brilliant world of hunting, tactics,

fierce exhilaration, skill; and there was the world of longing and baffled commonsense. Jack transferred the knife to his left hand and smudged blood over his forehead as he pushed down the plastered hair.”

She dropped the pages into her lap and blinked at him.  “When you first landed, you were so insufferable. Completely Jack.”

“Okay…” he began unsurely.  Bellamy had no idea why, but he was neither afraid or worried.  This was his secret, after all--he’d come here for, apparently, this.  Her. But what on earth was she?

“But now,” she wagged a finger.  Her nails were clean, in fact, all of her was clean.  Her immodest and un-Grounder-like clothing was a simple linen that left little to the imagination, but Bellamy’s confusion took front seat to any other observations.  She was barefoot, swinging her legs idly from her seat. “Definitely Simon.”

“Who’s Simon?”  He sounded incredibly stupid, he realized, and as before, his improperly placed pride caused a swell of crimson to his cheeks.  He didn’t want to sound stupid, of all things.

She held the book out.  “I had a feeling _Lord of the Flies_ wasn’t something they probably wanted kids to read on the Ark.  You’ll like it.”

“How do you know about the Ark?”  His fingers dug into the tree bark as though he might suddenly float away.  His head was spinning. For some reason all the brunette could think about was the fierce strength the girl had displayed as she lifted him back onto his seat.

“I know a lot of things….” she smiled, and his cheeks reddened even more.  “Bellamy. Here. Take it.”

“How do you know who I am?  Are you Triku?” 

She laughed.  “I’d say it’s more accurate that Trikru is mine, but that’s a political debating point.  Take the book already. It’s a thank you for the snowglobe.”

“Snowglobe?”  Bellamy remembered the glass bauble.  

“Did you know that I collect them?” she tilted her head, looking for all the world like an inquisitive student at school.  Her eyes were a strange grey color, almost matching the thin white triangle lines on her forehead. “Or was it just a lucky guess?” 

“I………”

She moved suddenly, stepping gingerly onto his branch and sitting cross-legged in front of him.  The girl picked up one of his hands, tearing it away from the grip of tree, and placed the book within it.  “Now, I have another gift for you, because I’m feeling generous, but I need your cooperation on something as well.”

“That hardly makes it a gift,” he began, but she interrupted, “I can talk to Clarke, or arrange a meeting for you.”

This caused him to choke on his words, and he stared expectantly at the oddly pretty girl in front of him. 

“Convince the members of the Ark to abandon their search for any station in Ice Nation territory.”

“How did you know--”

“Bellamy, tangling with the Ice Nation will get you and the rest of the Ark killed.  The tenuous thread they walk on has enough weight as it is. Intruders now is the exact opposite of the peace and life your group claims to value.”

“We do value it,” he responded indignantly.

“Oh,” she half-smiled.  “I’m sure those at Mount Weather would disagree...if they could.”

He swallowed.  It appeared she knew everything that the Grounders knew, anyway.  But she felt so...different. Her English wasn’t tribal, and her appearance….

“You come back after a few chapters and tell me if you agree.  About Simon.” She tapped the book.

“And...who are you?”  he asked. “Where is here? Where am I coming back to?”

“We can talk about that later,” she nodded.  “Tell the Ark. Stand down. Listen to Indra and leave Ice Nation alone.”  

Abruptly the girl dropped from the branch, leaves shaking as she disappeared from view below him.  

  
  



End file.
